Little Boy Lost
by seven dragons
Summary: Dr. Lucien Blake goes missing and Jean is hiding a secret. As the police begin to search for him, it becomes apparent that Jean might know more than she is willing to tell. This story takes place several months after the end of season 4.
1. The Lost Boys

_"Some of the party continued their journey 20 miles further to the north-west across the Yarrowee valley to the shore of Lake Burrumbeet. The report of this expidition was unfavorable." - Geological Survey of Victoria, The Ballarat East Gold-Field, 1907_

Dr. Lucien Blake walked across the field, the sound of crisp leaves underfoot penetrating the silence. At the edge of the woods sat a slowly decaying shack, probably the remnants of a mine camp. It was already getting dark out and there was a chill in the air. Lucien looked back at his car, now laying almost sideways in a ditch. He could try to walk back to the main road, but he had driven for miles and pain was shooting up his leg. He was better off staying here tonight and he'd find his way home tomorrow. He tried to think back on how he got to this field, near these woods, but his thoughts blurred. Looking around, he felt a profound sense of peace. There could be worse places to be stranded.

Lucien limped over to the shack and ducked in. It was larger than he originally thought. It must have had two rooms once but now it was a little more than a lean-to. The front wall was now missing and completely open, but the roof looked solid enough. It would do for one night. Lucien sat down on the dirt floor, leaning against a support beam for what must have been the front wall. He was happy to be off his throbbing leg. Looking around he couldn't help but laugh. He had never been much of an outdoorsman. He preferred the comforts of the city. He would never have chosen to stay here. And yet, everything felt so peaceful here, so quiet. It was nice to get away, though he couldn't recall from what. An alarm rang in the back of his head. He was suppose to be somewhere. Someone was waiting for him. He left the shack and turned towards his car. It was getting difficult to walk at all and he would be wandering down a dark road on a moonless night. His chances of finding help weren't good. He went back into the shack and slumped back against the beam. Despite the cold and the uncomfortable circumstances, he fell asleep almost immediately.

Not long after he drifted off he woke to the sound of a voice calling for help. Lucien got to his feet and limped towards the edge of the woods, looking for the source of the sound. The cries continued, high pitched and hysterical. Lucien crashed blindly into the woods, ignoring the pain in his leg. The source of the cries was only a few yards ahead of him. Some rotting boards marked an old mine shaft, the entrance of which had mostly collapsed. Lucien peered down, and a small figure peered back up.

"Please help me. I'm stuck."

Lucien looked at the boy, trying to make out his form in the last shreds of dusk. He did not look like he was more than two meters down, but the rubble along the sides looked treacherous.

"Stay there!"

Careful to avoid jarring his leg, Lucien slid on his backside over the rubble to the bottom of the pit. He lifted the boy above his head and over the lip of the shaft. When Lucien tried to climb out, the rubble shifted and he almost fell. He reminded himself that this shaft used to be a lot deeper than two meters. Lying on his stomach, Lucien flattened himself as much as he could to distribute his weight, and carefully crawled back to the surface. He took the boy by the hand and led him back to the clearing.

"Are you alright?" The boy nodded shyly in response.

"You'd better run on home, your parents will be worried."

"I don't have any parents."

"Well you can't have been living out here all on your own. Where do you come from?"

"I don't know."

Lucien suspected the boy was playing games with him. "Fine then. You'll stay with me tonight, and tomorrow we'll go into town and find your parents. Is that all right?"

The boy nodded slowly. Lucien smiled. "What's your name?"

"Tommy."

"How do you do Tommy? I'm Lucien." Lucien held out his hand. Tommy looked at it, unsure of what to do. Lucien laughed. "That's alright. It's going to be cold tonight. I think we should make a fire. You don't know how to make a fire by any chance, do you?"

Tommy shook his head. "Well Tommy that makes two of us. Let's see if twenty year old survival training gets me anywhere. I think I have a Zippo in the glove box of my car. This should be easy. Can you help me collect some branches and kindling? Just out here and on the very edge of the woods. I'll pull some of the collapsed wood from the back of the shed."

Tommy's face lit up with excitement and he ran off. Minutes later they were sitting happily in front of a growing fire, not far from the edge of the shack.

"That's so much better." Lucien turned towards the boy, getting a good look at him for the first time. No more than six years old, he had a dark complexion with dark almond shaped eyes and wavy black hair. He must be a local aboriginal, or at least partly so, Lucien thought to himself. Several native families still farmed on the outskirts of town. Lucien hoped that the boy really knew where his parents were and that they would miss him. He did not want Tommy to end up in the orphanage. Lucien stood up and walked back to the wall beam.

"Tommy I think we should both be getting some sleep. We need to find your parents in the morning. And I need to get..." His thoughts were still blurry. He was way too tired for this, "...somewhere." Lucien leaned back against the beam. Tommy sat down next to him and watched Lucien for a long time. Eventually Lucien opened one eye. "You're not going to stare at me all night like that, are you?"

Tommy shook his head. Sliding up next to him, Tommy wrapped his small arms around Lucien's side. Lucien placed an arm around Tommy and held him close, glad for some warmth against the night air. Within minutes they were both fast asleep.


	2. Missing

_"Ballarat is an extremely prosperous town, and its citizens would appear to have a keener sense of municipal responsibility in the matter of embellishing their town than is usual in Australia." - Thomas Griffith Taylor, Australia in Its Physiographic and Economic Aspects, 1911_

Jean hurried out of the sun room to answer the door. The day was bright but cool, and Jean was determined to make the most of it. Having hung the laundry out to dry and brought in the week's groceries, she was now carefully pruning a plant that had started to grow too tall to stay upright. She opened the door to find Chief Superintendent Frank Carlyle and Charlie Davis on her doorstep. Frank looked cross and Charlie just looked embarrassed. Jean ushered them into the living room. Charlie ducked into Lucien's study and then into his surgery before joining them.

"What can I do for you gentlemen?"

"Mrs. Beazley have you seen the Doc today?"

"No Charlie, why?"

Frank took off his hat. "Blake was supposed to come to the court house today to testify in a case. He never showed."

Charlie continued, "Even for the Doc it's strange to be that unreliable."

Jean smirked. "I don't know, I wouldn't say that."

Charlie furrowed his brow. "Come to think of it, I haven't seen him in days."

"Any idea where he's gone off to, Mrs. Beazley?" Frank asked.

"I don't know, I haven't seen him in at least two days."

Charlie looked baffled. "That doesn't strike you as odd?"

Jean smiled nervously. "I assumed he was with you working on a case. You know how he gets. He's gone all night."

"He hasn't come back to the house at all?" Frank continued.

"Not that I know of."

"And you're not worried?"

"Not really. You know what he's like," Jean said lightly, "I'm sure he'll turn up. But I am sorry about the court case. I hope it didn't cause you too much trouble."

"Trouble? The judge almost held us both in contempt. I had to call in a favor to keep him from dismissing the charges outright. We won't be so lucky if he doesn't show again."

"I'm sure he'll turn up. He can't have gone far."

Frank gave Jean a measured look. "Right. Well thank you for your time. If you see him, please have him call me immediately."

"Alright."

He turned to Charlie. "Let's go Sergeant."

Charlie looked at Jean, shifting his feet awkwardly. "I'll uh, be home for dinner later."

Outside, Charlie and Frank stood behind their police car, talking quietly.

"Charlie, is it normal for Jean to be so unconcerned about his whereabouts?"

"No, she rarely lets him out of her sight. She's usually down at the station if he's gone for too long."

"I thought so. Remember last week, when we thought we had a murder on our hands at the Bowling Green that turned out to be an accident?"

"Yeah," Charlie replied. "What a mess."

Frank smiled. "Right. That one. Blake told me he hoped it wasn't a murder because he didn't want to stay away from home any more than he had to. I assumed he meant Jean."

"That sounds like him."

"And living in his house, you have no idea where he is, or why Jean is unconcerned?"

"None. But I don't like it."

Frank crossed his arms and leaned back against the car, thinking. After a few minutes he looked up. "Alright, Davis I want you to go to the Colonist's Club and ask around, find out when the last time was that anyone had seen him. I am going to talk to Alice and call Lawson, maybe they know where he is. I wouldn't put it past Blake to have gone on a business trip and forgot to tell anyone, but I'd like to know."

Charlie nodded as he got into the car, "I hope you're right."


	3. The Next Day

_"According to some of the early diggers its native name - more correctly spelt Ballaarat - was interpreted by the blacks of Lake Windouree as a "camping place," or "reclining place"" - Geological Survey of Victoria, The Ballarat East Gold-Field, 1907_

Lucien opened his eyes the next morning. The sun was already high in the sky, Lucien guessed it was already past ten. Tommy was curled up in a ball in his lap, his dark hair falling across his face. Lucien carefully moved the boy aside and stood up. Pain shot through his skull and sent him slumping back against the beam of the shack. The rest of him felt even worse. Lucien thought that this was probably from sleeping in the cold in such uncomfortable conditions. He forced himself to walk around despite the pain, to try and warm up his chilled limbs. All around the clearing birds were singing, and the sun streaked down through the trees. The ground was covered with drying brown leaves, with the odd tuft of faded green grass poking through. Lucien thought, not for the first time, that he could not have found a better place to be stranded. He wondered if he might purchase this land and build a cottage here for the weekends. He was sure that would make someone very happy. He was sure he should have known who, but the pain in his head was making it hard to concentrate.

The sound of scraping made him turn around. Tommy was playing in the dirt with the remnants of a stick pulled out of last night's fire.

"Morning Tommy!"

"Hi."

"I think it's time we got you home, don't you think?"

"I guess so."

"Can you tell me where you live?"

"I don't know."

"Not this again. Look Tommy," Lucien took a step towards him and fell down. His leg would barely support weight any more. He rolled onto his back. His hands and feet were numb from the cold air, moving around hadn't helped. He felt very sleepy.

"I'm sorry Tommy. I think I have to stay here a while. You must be starving by now."

"I'm not hungry."

"You know it's strange, neither am I."

"I found a stream in the woods, and some berries. I could get some berries."

"I'm not sure I want you wandering around out there. I don't want you falling down that mine shaft again."

"I won't. I know where it is."

"Alright, but don't go far." No sooner than Lucien said it than he started drifting off to sleep. He woke up several hours later, in the same spot where he fell. Tommy was playing nearby.

"You alright there?"

Tommy smiled cheerfully and sat down beside him. Lucien wondered at the resiliency of the boy, wandering in the wild without a care in the world. He started to wonder if Tommy really had been out here all alone. Tommy looked up at him.

"Lucien where do you live?"

"I live in town. In Ballarat."

"Do you have a house?"

"Yes I do. I have a big house, with lots of rooms, and a garden."

"What do you do there?"

"I'm a doctor. And sometimes I help the police."

"Are you married?"

Lucien laughed. "You ask a lot of questions, young man. Yes. My wife's name is Jean. Jean..." Lucien creased his brow. Her name was the bit of memory he had been having trouble shaking loose. She would be worried about them.

"Tommy, Jean is going to be worried about us if we don't get back soon."

"I know, but it's getting dark already. I want to stay here."

Lucien sighed. He wondered how they'd lost the whole day. But he could barely walk, and his whole body was wracked with cold. He wondered how Tommy was faring so well, but young children were remarkable that way. They would have to spend another night.

"Alright Tommy. I'll see if I can build us another fire. Tomorrow we need to get to the main road, even I have to crawl. Why don't you go gather some sticks."

Tommy happily ran off. A while later, they had a small fire going, though not as well built as before. Lucien was not able to find any more spare wood in the shack and he was unable to walk far enough to collect wood from the forest. It would do for the night. Tommy was amusing himself throwing leaves onto the fire and watching them smoke. Lucien dragged himself back over to the shed and leaned back against the wall beam. For a long time he watched Tommy play by their meager fire. It was going to be cold again tonight. He had been shivering for so long he hardly noticed it anymore. He worried for Tommy, but he seemed fine. His thoughts turned to Jean. He hoped she wasn't worried. There was something about her that he was still forgetting. His thoughts still became hazy when he tried to think about her. He wished she was here right now. Eventually, Tommy grew tired and sat down next to him.

"Tomorrow Tommy, no matter what, we head down the road. Alright?"

Tommy nodded and curled up against him.


	4. Revelation

_"Once bitten by a snake, one is scared all his life at the mere sight of a rope." - Chinese proverb_

Jean was alone in the house when Matthew Lawson knocked on the door. Limping heavily and leaning on a cane, he walked through to the kitchen without being invited in.

"Jean, are you alright? Frank told me."

"I'm fine. I don't see what all the fuss is about. Lucien is just wrapped up in a case somewhere."

"Jean, he's not working on a case. It's been two days and you haven't heard a word from him?"

"No. I'm sure he'll turn up when he's ready."

"Ready for what?"

Jean sighed in exasperation. "I have no idea. He probably tells you more than he tells me. I wish everyone would stop making a fuss."

"You're not worried about him?"

"I am, or I would be, but there's nothing to be worried about. I told that to Superintendent Carlyle."

"Jean, Blake has his moments but it's not like him to just disappear like this."

Jean gave him a pointed look.

"Fine, but last time he left a note. Have you checked his room? Has he packed?"

"I didn't think to check."

Jean walked briskly towards the bedroom with Matthew following behind. She opened the door and looked around, checking the wardrobe and dresser.

"Nothing is missing that I can see. Maybe he packed light."

"He packed light? You said you thought he was on a case. Why would he pack if he was on a case?"

Jean left the room and walked into the living room and stood there, facing the wall. Matthew followed.

"Jean, what aren't you telling me?"

Jean put her hand to her mouth but did not turn around.

"Jean, answer me. You've been hiding something. What do you know?"

Jean reeled around, her eyes in tears. "I'm not one of your bloody criminals Matthew! He's gone, alright? Not missing, gone."

"Gone?"

"I think he left the country. I think he went to Hong Kong to..." Jean looked away again, unable to finish the sentence.

"He wouldn't do that. I know he wouldn't."

"We had a row. He didn't want to divorce Mei Lin. I told him it was time to make up his mind. I said," Jean's voice was shrill, "I said if he wasn't willing to get on with his life then I was going to get on with mine. When I woke up the next morning, he was gone. I don't know when he left, but he left." Jean wrapped her arms around herself tightly and turned away from Matthew, sobbing.

"Bloody hell, Jean"

"I couldn't tell the Superintendent. Charlie hasn't even figured it out. I couldn't face the embarrassment."

"Do you realize they have half the police force out looking for him?"

"I know. I told them not to, but..." Jean broke down crying again. Matthew put a hand on her shoulder.

"I am going to kill that bastard if I ever get my hands on him. You deserve better than this." Jean looked away.

Matthew sighed, "Look, I'll tell Frank to call off the search and send someone to the port to check ship and airplane manifests. We can at least confirm he's gone so we can explain to Melbourne why we are not looking for a missing police surgeon. But Jean, are you sure? I really can't see him leaving you like this."

Jean looked up, her back still turned to Matthew. Her voice was strained. "I really don't know. Wherever he is, he's not here."

"Fine. I'll see myself out." Matthew limped back towards the front door, leaving Jean standing alone in the living room.


	5. Mater Dolorosa

_"For it is not an enemy who reproaches me, then I could bear it; Nor is it one who hates me who has exalted himself against me, then I could hide myself from him. But it is you, a man my equal, My companion and my familiar friend;" - Psalm 55:12-13_

Hours later, Jean sat at her dressing table. She had told Matthew the truth but not all of it. The shame of the whole thing was too much to bear. She'd been called a foolish woman more than once for staying with Lucien, and occasionally had been called worse. But she believed in Lucien and was determined to stay by his side. When Mei Lin left town she had never been more sure of their future. Even if they could not be married right away at least they would be together. Her life about town had become more difficult since Mei Lin had returned to Ballarat. Occasional lewd gossip had converted into moral disapproval, nasty looks, and sometimes nastier insults. She was determined to rise above them all, but it was difficult. She never breathed a word about it to Lucien. It was all worth it to be with him, it was worth it so that they could be them. Any pain caused by the crueler elements of Ballarat society dissipated when they were alone together; in stolen kisses, furtive embraces in his study, in his newly acquired habit of giving her a quick peck on the cheek before he left the house in the morning.

For more than five months she had bided her time, content to live together in this manner. She had assumed he was making progress towards a divorce. Aware that it would be a difficult process, legally and emotionally, she never talked to him about it. She didn't want him to feel pressured or uncomfortable. Jean trusted that Lucien would do what was best for both of them. However as five months became six, and then more, she started to wonder. She never heard a word or saw an appointment with a lawyer in his date book. She decided to broach the subject one night when he was in his office.

"Lucien, how have things been going? With the courts?"

"The courts?"

"The, you know, with the divorce. Have you met with a lawyer?"

Lucien had stared at her a long time, looking shocked that she'd asked.

"Well, Jean, the truth is, I haven't. I've been thinking about it, and I am not sure I should get a divorce. All those years that I looked for Mei Lin, and she looked for me. And now, I've caused her so much suffering, it would be unfair to treat her that way. She's still my wife."

"Yes, that's the problem, isn't it?"

"Jean," Lucien gave her a charming smile, as if he were trying to get her to help him with some minor favor. "Surely you understand."

Jean was stunned. Against all common sense she stood by him when Mei Lin was on his doorstep. And for years before, drunk, bitter, erratic, impossible, Jean had been there. Mei Lin had not bailed him out of jail, cleaned up after his drunken messes, wasn't a shoulder to cry on when his daughter rejected him. And after Mei Lin, she bore the disapproval and sometimes cruelty of her peers all so she could be with him. He had proposed to her, twice. And when things had seemed darkest between them, Lucien had promised to make it right. And she had believed in him, and had loved him unconditionally despite everything else. Jean laid all this at Lucien's feet, in sobs and shrieks in Lucien's study.

Lucien seemed contrite at first but as she continued his face grew bright red. Finally he cut her off. "You never had to stay, Jean! Don't tell me you haven't had a good life here. You were free to leave at any time if you didn't like it! You still are!"

"Is that what you want? For me to leave so you can go back to Mei Lin?"

Lucien's voice softened. "No Jean, I...I just need more time."

Jean's voice was icy. "I think you've had plenty of time. You need to decide what you want, Lucien. And if you can't, I'll decide for you."

Jean turned and stormed out of the room before Lucien could respond. That next morning, Jean did not get out of bed. It was rare for her not to rise before the sun and she had just laid there for hours, unable to move. She was not particularly concerned whether or not Lucien got his breakfast. By the time she dressed and went downstairs, he had left the house. Jean didn't think anything unusual of this, and she didn't bother to wait up for him when he didn't come home that night. When he didn't come home for a second night in a row, she knew he had made his choice.

Jean tried to gather her thoughts to determine her next steps. She could stay at the house until Lucien sent word for her to leave. It would be financially prudent, but she was not sure she could bear to live here without him, waiting to be evicted from her own home. She could not tell any of their friends. When Lucien had been arrested on murder charges, all their friends and colleagues had gathered around her, both to support her and receive guidance on what to do next. Even with Mei Lin in proximity, no one had doubted who Lucien's partner was, who he would prefer they looked after. Now he had made a fool of her. Going to any of them for help would be too humiliating. Nor could she go back to Adelaide. Jean had promised to stay and look after Amelia and then left soon after. She'd all but abandoned her son to chase after Lucien, it would be unfair of her to return now seeking accommodation. She very well couldn't turn to her church and explain to Father Emery that her adulterous boyfriend had walked out on her.

Jean sat in front of her dressing mirror and stared at her reflection. She was aging. Lucien would have been her second chance at love, at a family life. It was unlikely she would get a third. She realized for the first time in her life she was truly alone. With no one in the house to hear her, and no one to care, Jean sunk her head into her hands and began to cry.

Jean woke up, at dawn this time, after a near sleepless night. Still in her dressing gown, she went downstairs to Lucien's bedroom just in case he had showed up some time during the night. It was empty, as was his office. She stood in the middle of the room, looking at his desk. A glass with a hint of whiskey still sat on the credenza. Jean had not been able to bring herself to remove that last part of him from the room. It occurred to her that he was supposed to see patients today and she would need to cancel. She couldn't tell them he was sick, they would expect to reschedule and a few might even call later to check on him. She would tell them that he had gone out of town on an emergency. This way there would be fewer questions over his extended absence. Jean picked up his date book and thumbed through it. Patients, meetings, the occasional social event. The sight of her birthday scribbled in his own hand writing nearly caused her to break down again. Finally she got to today's date and scanned down the page. As she did so, she gasped.

"Oh my god."


	6. The Samuelsons

_"...the country was thought to be too dismal for occupation." - Robertson & Mullens, Victoria: the first century, 1934_

Jean walked into the Ballarat police station and right into the back room. As soon as she entered the room all the officers on duty looked up and stared at her. The humiliation had already begun, Jean thought to herself. Keeping her head high, Jean walked straight to the Chief Superintendent and placed Lucien's date book down on his desk.

"Look here," Jean pointed to a line scribbled at the bottom of the page three days past. Frank looked down at the page and back up at Jean.

"The Samuelsons? What does it mean?"

"It's an appointment for a house call," Jean continued. "I didn't know he had made it."

"Mrs. Beazley don't you make his appointments for him?"

"Not all the house calls. The farmers that live outside of town, they won't bring their families in to see a doctor if it's not an emergency. Luci...the doctor tries to convince them to let him come visit, at least to examine the kids and give them their shots. Half the time they don't even pay him. He often makes the appointments at the pub or wherever he happens to run into them."

"And you didn't know about this appointment when we last spoke?"

"I never thought to look. I didn't know he had any patients that day and I thought..." Jean's voice trailed away and she lowered her eyes. Frank put a sympathetic hand on her shoulder.

"Do you know where the Samuelson farm is Mrs. Beazley?"

"Past Lake Burrumbeet, almost to Beaufort."

"Blimey that's out there."

Jean looked at him pleadingly. "Superintendent if something has happened..."

Frank cut her off. "Mrs. Beazley I want to find him as much as anyone else. I'll drive down there myself and ask if they've seen him."

The Samuelson farm was down a long dirt road north of Lake Burrumbeet. Frank did not think they could have found a more remote location if they had tried. The small farm house was the only feature on miles of fields and sheep pasture. Several children played out front, their blonde hair and fair faces caked with dirt. They seemed hearty enough despite of it, waving excitedly at the spectacle of strangers and chasing the car as it pulled up the driveway. Frank sent Charlie to look around outside and knocked on the door. A woman with curly golden hair answered. Inside were two toddlers on the floor and Mrs. Samuelson looked like she was within weeks of giving birth to another. Mr. Samuelson and his older sons, just in from the field, were sitting down to breakfast. Frank apologized for the intrusion and explained why they were there.

"Yes," Mr. Samuelson said gruffly. "He wanted to come and look at my wife and some of the young ones. I told him after seven children there ain't nothing my wife don't know about giving birth, and the kids are fine. But he insisted."

"But he never showed."

"No," Mrs. Samuelson chimed in. That was three days ago now. We were expecting him first thing that morning. He promised to be done with us before the boys got back in from the fields."

"Mr. Samuelson, is there any chance that he got lost, maybe ended up at another farm?"

"You've never been around here before, have you?"

Frank looked embarrassed. "Can't say I have."

"Well it's a lot of miles of nothing between the lake and Beaufort. There's another road just before the one to our farm. It's easy to turn off by accident. I've done it myself, especially when it's dark. Eventually you'll end up at the Smythe's farm but it's an hour down the road."

"I see. Mr. and Mrs. Samuelson, thank you for your time."

Back outside, Charlie was pinned against the car by three dirty blonde robbers. "Fine, I'll put my hands up, but you still can't have my gun."

Frank laughed, "Out of your depth Sergeant?"

"I was outnumbered."

Frank shooed the children away and leaned against the car. "According to them the Doc was supposed to be here early in the morning to check on Mrs. Samuelson three days ago. He never showed. Now if he left his house intending to get here on time, he would have had to leave well before dawn. It's easy enough to get lost around here, especially in the dark."

Charlie furrowed his brow. "That's true, but given what we know. What Mrs. Beazley said..."

"I checked with the port and the airport and he hasn't left, at least not that way. I didn't want to tell Mrs. Beazley until I knew more."

"Maybe he didn't leave the country, maybe he just...left."

"Lawson said he didn't pack. And you said yourself that didn't seem like something Blake would do. Besides Sergeant, we're already out here. Who doesn't love a nice ride in the country?"

Charlie looked around distastefully. "Yeah, right."


	7. A Dog Named Spot

_"It was said to be an "animal like a big retriever dog, with a round head and hardly any ears." Many people had also seen one in Lake Burrumbeet near Ballarat." - R. Hart-Davis, On the Track of Unknown Animals, 1958_

Lucien awoke at dawn the next day. The cold no longer bothered him, and he still didn't seem hungry, but he was keenly aware they were running out of time. With Tommy's help they found a stick in the woods large enough to support his weight; it would have to do for a crutch. Lucien stood in the middle of the field and surveyed his domain, its colors subdued in the gray dawn light. He sighed regretfully. He would miss this place but he needed to find Tommy's parents, and Jean would certainly be waiting for them.

"Are you ready to go Tommy?" Lucien sighed, "We have a long, painful walk ahead of us."

Tommy ran up to Lucien and stood at attention. He had found his own small walking stick that he had it tucked under his arm to match Lucien's crutch. Lucien looked into his dark, almond shaped eyes and felt like he'd known the boy his whole life.

"Tommy, if we can't find your parents. I mean if we really can't find your parents, would you like to come and live with Jean and I? We'd take care of you."

"Would I have to be a doctor?"

Lucien laughed, "Only if you wanted to."

Tommy appeared to give the matter serious consideration. "Could we have a dog?"

"Well you'll have to convince Jean. You know, I used to have a dog when I was your age. A Cocker Spaniel named Rosie."

"Was she nice?"

"Oh very nice. But we didn't have her for very long."

Blake looked over at the boy and smiled. "So what are we going to name our dog?"

"Spot."

"Spot? But what if it doesn't have spots?"

"Huh. I'll find a dog with spots."

"Ok, then. Spot it is. So, do you want to come stay with Jean and I for a while?"

Tommy looked down and fidgeted with his hands. "Ok."

Lucien took one last look back at the shack. "Well, we'd best be going."

The short trip just to get back to the car felt like a lifetime. He could barely walk, and his cold hands made it difficult to grip his walking stick. They hadn't walked much further down the road when Lucien couldn't go any further.

"Alright Tommy, I am going to sit, just for a few minutes."

Lucien found himself getting sleepy again, but he didn't want to let Tommy out of his sight now that they were on the move. Tommy, excited for this new adventure, was running in circles around Lucien, five steps for every one of his. Suddenly Tommy halted mid-step in the dust. He peered down the road and then ran back to Lucien.

"I think you should go to sleep."

"I wish I could, young man. But we need to keep moving."

Lucien propped himself up on his crutch and pulled himself upright. Feeling dazed, he took a few painful steps in the direction of the main road. Tommy did not move.

"You can stay here now. Someone's coming."


	8. Found

_"We say the word is lost; but who shall tell? Has it been found?" - Austin Blake, The Second Sense,_ _Horlick's Magazine and Home Journal for Australia, India and the Colonies_ _, 1904_

Frank and Charlie followed the Samuelson's instructions and headed down the road to the Smythe farm. Twenty-five minutes later Frank slammed on the brakes, nearly spinning out in the dirt. A white and brown Holden was lying in a ditch on the side of the road. One of its front tires could be seen a little ways beyond. Frank and Charlie got out of the car and looked around.

"Look at this rut just ahead of us, boss. It must have taken his tire out and he lost control of the car."

"Good thing we didn't hit it too," Frank said. "Go check out the car."

Blake's car was almost on its side in the ditch and the front end was crushed in. On the windshield was a large spiderweb pattern of broken glass, ominously covered in blood. The car was empty. Charlie glanced inside and gave Frank an uncertain look.

"That's the Doc's medical bag in the back. But where's the Doc?"

Frank and Charlie spent a few minutes searching the area; under the car, along the ditch, and at the edge of the nearby woods.

"What about over there?" Charlie pointed out across the field to where a shed could just be made out in the distance. "Maybe he tried to find shelter."

"Lets go check it out. If we can't find him, we'll return to the station and come back with a search team. He can't have gone far."

"Boss," Charlie looked down at his feet, his face contorted, "It's been three days."

"I know Sergeant. But I refuse to believe we're looking for a body. Not yet."

Frank and Charlie headed out in the direction of the shack, surveying the area as they went. Near the shack the ground had clearly been trampled. Someone had made a pile of sticks and leaves nearby. A Zippo lighter lie on the ground. Charlie picked it up.

"Someone tried to light a fire, but everything is wet. He wouldn't have had much luck with it and it's been freezing the last few nights."

"It's got to be him. Blake must have hit his head on the windshield and then staggered this way. If he was injured he might not have been thinking clearly."

"Actually boss, he may have hit his head twice." Charlie was facing the shed. The front wall had long since fallen, leaving a single support beam holding up the roof. The corner of the beam was covered in blood. Frank cursed.

"Charlie, go check out the shack. I'll head along the edge of the woods." Frank found no further evidence of Lucien. A few minutes later he turned back to give the area one last pass. Looking back across the field as he did so a shape caught his eye. Frank walked, and then ran half way back towards the car. Lucien Blake was lying face down on the ground. They had passed within a few meters of him on their way to the shack and hadn't seem him. His clothes were caked with dried blood and his skin was gray. A large stick was on the ground next to him.

Frank looked down at the motionless figure, trying to regain his composure before he went and told Charlie. They had wasted too much time looking in the wrong places, and then not looking at all. Given the circumstances, how far he was from home, it was lucky they found a body at all. Suddenly Frank found himself wishing that Lucien really was a horrible lout who had walked out on Jean. Frank forced himself to touch the ice cold Blake and check for a pulse. It had to be done. Frank got down on his knees and grabbed one of Lucien's shoulders with both hands to try and roll him over. His efforts got Lucien only half way around, not quite enough to check for a pulse. Frank walked around to the other side to give Lucien a final push over. As he did so, Lucien groaned from the pain. Frank leaped backwards and landed flat on the ground a few feet away. He quickly scrambled back over to Lucien. He wasn't moving. Frank shook him, maybe harder than he should have. Lucien cried out in pain but did not wake up. Frank jumped to his feet.

"Sergeant! SERGEANT!"

By the time Charlie got there Frank had propped Lucien up against him into a sitting position. Lucien was coughing and his eyes were barely open, but he was breathing. Charlie feel to his knees next to the Doc, tears streaming down his face. There wasn't a lot either of them could do for Lucien where they were, both could hardly believe he was alive. After a few minutes trying to get Lucien to respond, Frank turned to Charlie.

"Alright, this is what we'll do. Take the car and drive back towards town, stop at the nearest phone you can find and call an ambo. I'll stay here with him."

Charlie stood up and looked doubtfully back down at Lucien "Right."

"Wait."

Both men started in surprise and looked down. It was Lucien. His voice was barely above a whisper.

"The boy. You have to find him. Take him with you."

Frank looked up at Charlie, concerned. "I didn't see any evidence of anyone else. Sergeant did you see find anything in the shed?"

"No, boss. Maybe some local kid came by, found Blake, and got scared off. He probably went home."

"No, Thomas." Lucien wheezed with the effort of speaking. "My son. You have to find him. Bring him to Jean. Please."

Frank looked up at Charlie, who looked equally baffled.

Charlie shrugged, "He has a daughter."

"No Thomas. My son."

"Doc, you don't have a son."

"He died. Pulmonary tuberculosis. He died before Li was born. Find him please, and bring him to Jean. Jean will take care of him."

Frank looked up at Charlie, alarmed. "We can't wait for an ambo. We'll have to carry him to the car."


	9. Dum Spiro Spero

_"Then he saw a characteristic turn of her head and memories came flooding back to him." - Nevil Shute, A Town Like Alice, 1950_

Matthew Lawson stood next to Lucien's bed, leaning over a medical chart with a young doctor.

"So, he'll live?"

"He's badly dehydrated, hypothermic, has a broken leg, and one whopper of a concussion. But yes, I think he'll recover. It's going to take a while. If the police hadn't found him, I don't think he would have made it another day."

"Good thing the police found him." Matthew sighed regretfully.

"Matthew."

Matthew turned in surprise towards Lucien. Lucien tried to speak but it was barely above a whisper. Matthew sat down in a chair and leaned toward him.

"You had us going there. You just can't stay out of trouble, can you?"

"Matthew," Lucien rasped. Where's my wife? I can't find her."

"Mei Lin is in Hong Kong. Which is something we are going to have a talk about when you get better, if I don't break your face in first."

"No my wife. Where's Jean? Bring Thomas to Jean."

Matthew looked doubtfully up at the doctor. "How long is he going to be like this?"

"The delirium should subside in a day or two as he starts to recover. He may improve sooner as we increase his fluid intake."

"Matthew, please. Where's my wife? I can't find Jean."

Matthew gave Lucien a worried look. "I hope you're right."

Leaning on his cane, Matthew got up from the chair and slowly left the room. Jean had arrived and was waiting outside.

"I'll let the doctor fill you in but he's going to be fine. He's going to have a long recovery, though."

Jean nodded weakly, and looked towards the door but didn't go in. "This is my fault, Matthew. I did this to him."

"Well I think it could be argued he did this to himself, but that doesn't matter right now. He keeps asking for you."

Jean looked surprised at that. Matthew continued, "But I should warn you, he's not in his right mind right now."

Jean laughed bitterly. "How can you tell?"

Before Matthew could respond, Jean straightened up and walked slowly into the room. After a brief consultation with the doctor she sat down in the chair by his bedside. He seemed asleep now. For a long time, Jean just stared at him, unsure of what to do. A week ago she would have rushed to his side, immediately taken his hand, taken control of his care. Now she was lost in limbo; not his lover, not his wife, unlikely to become either, maybe not even his friend, yet assumed to be some stand-in for all of the above. Yet he hadn't left her, he was just trying to help a poor family. Her lack of faith had brought him here, and almost killed him. Jean looked at his face, now pale, and listened to his labored breathing. She gently touched his cheek. It was ice cold.

"I'm so sorry."

"Jean?"

Jean looked up to see his eyes half opened.

"I wanted to find you, but I couldn't remember where you were. Do you have Thomas?"

"Your father?"

"No my son, Lucien whispered. You have to take care of him until I get home."

"I didn't do such a good job with you."

"Don't be silly Jean. You're my wife. Who else is going to take care of him? He's your family now."

This last sentence was more than Jean could bear. Burying her head into Lucien's side, Jean began to cry.

Hours later, Jean opened her eyes into a dark room. She was still in the chair and had fallen asleep laying against Lucien with her arms draped across his chest. The room had gotten cold. A hand was caressing the back of her head, gently stroking her hair.

"Jean?"

Jean lifted her head and turned it towards him. She did not get up, unwilling to break contact, fearful that this would be the last time they ever touched.

"Jean, where are we?" His voice was weak but he sounded more lucid.

"In the hospital. You were in a car accident."

"Jean, I'm sorry. You were right. I haven't been fair to you."

"I'm the one who's sorry. I lost faith and it almost got you killed."

"I haven't given you much to have faith in."

"Shh let's not talk about this now. You've got a long road ahead of you. You need your rest."

Jean straightened up in the chair, her shoulders and neck aching. Lucien whined when she pulled away. She took his hand.

"Will you stay with me, Jean? I don't want to be here alone."

Jean stood up and gently kissed him on the forehead. He was still cold. Lucien tried to lift a hand towards her cheek, but didn't quite make it. Jean lifted his hand and pressed it against her lips. "Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere."

Jean shifted the chair so she could rest against the wall and still hold his hand. She could hear his breaths lengthen as he drifted off to sleep.

"I love you, Jean." His voice was barely audible in the darkness.

Jean squeezed his hand and closed her eyes. "I love you too, Lucien."


End file.
